


Perfect

by kittybenzedrine



Series: Timelines [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Caretaking, F/M, Injury, Mentioned Infidelity, Non-Explicit Sex, Sickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-25 23:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12046650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittybenzedrine/pseuds/kittybenzedrine
Summary: Grief is a prideful man who likes to think himself perfect. Renegade knows the truth._____All pieces of the Timelines series are standalones and can be read without context.





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Written in past tense because they're all memories.

He likes to think himself perfect, she thinks, untouchable. Likes to think of himself as something closely akin to a God. But Renegade knows the truth, though his half-remembered and revised memories.

She remembers patching Grief up in a secluded alcove in the woods. Their little guard detail had been ambushed and killed, the incompetent lot. He had survived, of course, because if he was anything it was tough. He got hurt protecting her, more than likely. But she cleaned his wounds with what little vodka she carried with her, tore a long swath of fabric from the hem of her dress to wrap his tender and swollen ankle with.

Grief scowled, grumbled something about her ruining yet another fine dress. Ren waved him off and told him it was already torn anyways.

 

 

 

She cleaned the small cuts on his hands and face, avoiding making eye contact. The small shanty on the beach wasn't their preference, not by a long shot, but they'd had little other option for shelter.

"Are you-"

"I'm fine," he cut her off. Through his neutral face, she could feel the anger vibrating in his bones. Not directed at her, thankfully. "You should be worrying about that burn on your face."

"I've cleaned it already," she assured him. "Nothing more I can do for it. You saved me from the worst of it, truthfully. They... They were going to burn me alive in front of you."

Grief closed his eyes, and Ren continued to gently pat down the nicks and cuts with antiseptic. She got a particularly nasty one on the back of his neck, where they'd cut his hair off with a sword and grazed his neck.

"I would have hunted down every last one of them had they done it. They would have died like dogs," he murmured, so low she could barely hear him.

"I believe it." She set her cloth down and gently ran her fingers through his hair. It had gone all the way down his back, and now it barely reached his shoulders. "Can I even this out for you?" she asked, gently scratching his scalp with her nails.

He hummed softly, and she took that as an affirmative. She wasn't very good with hair, but she saved as much length as she could while still making it look good.

She set the scissors down and stepped back to admire her work, and noticed his shirt cut to ribbons in spots. She frowned, and he let her unbutton his shirt and slide it down his shoulders. "I think this one may need stitches," she told him, grabbing the cloth and soaking it with more antiseptic.

"It's fine, I- _fuck_ \- I heal fast," he hissed from grit teeth as she patted it down with the rag.

Ren pulled it away, the white now soaked pink. She started to argue, then stopped. "Alright. I'll trust your judgement. I'll go see if I can find a tailor to mend this thing until we can get home."

Grief nodded, and pulled her in for a long kiss before she left.

 

 

 

 

After a particularly nasty break up, she was living back at her old homestead, in the guest house her brother had built just for her when she was younger, and shared it with Grief once they began dating. It was just hers now for the time being, she mused.

It had been a few months since she'd seen him, and that suited her just fine. With how big of an asshole he'd been the last time they spoke, she was more than content to go a few months without seeing him. It was inevitable that they'd come back to each other, but it was nice to have a break.

The sun was close to setting, and all her niece and nephews were finally out of her house and back in the main house, getting bathed and put to bed by her sister-in-law. She loved the kids, but she had no idea how Caleb and Annemarie could handle 7 children all at once.

Behind her, while she worked to clean up the kitchen, the front door opened and banged against the wall. Ren didn't bother to turn around.

"What did you forget?" she called to whichever of the kids had come back, wiping grime and lunch crumbs off of the table. When they didn't answer, she turned around to see who the hell it was.

Grief stood in the doorway, and she immediately knew something was wrong. His skin and lips were deathly pale, and the underneaths of his eyes were dark like a new moon sky. Even across the room, she could see the think sheen of sweat on his skin and soaking through his clothes. It was the end of spring though, and chilly out. There was no reason for him to be so sweat soaked. His eyes were glassy, and he was trying hard to focus on her.

She dropped her rag on the table and cautiously crossed the room to him. He leaned heavily on the door frame, and the closer she got, the more she could see him shaking and breathing like he'd run ten miles.

"Grief?" she asked gently, and watched as the light went out in his eyes.

She caught him, but just barely. He had 50 pounds on her, and was twice as heavy as dead weight. Ren could feel his skin burning through his clothes.

"Grief?" she asked again, voice higher with panic. "Grief? Grief? Leo?"

He let out a small grunt upon hearing his name, and she sighed with relief. "Help me," she told him. "I need you on your feet just enough to get to the bedroom. You're too heavy for me to carry."

Somehow, he managed to stumble along with her, feet uncoordinated in his heavy boots. He collapsed again once they reached the bed, thankfully pitching forward onto the mattress. She got him situated on one side, uncaring of his dusty shoes on the bed.

Once assured he wasn't going to fall off the bed, she made quick work off closing all of the windows and curtains. She checked out of her still opened front door, and saw his favorite mare standing next to the old oak tree in the front yard. She hurried out and took her by the reins and led her to the field behind the main house. Caleb stood in the stables, clearly confused to see Grief's horse when he and Ren weren't on speaking terms.

"He's sick, I think," Ren told her brother, and described what had happened. Caleb paled.

"Sounds like the influenza that's been sweeping through the country. You and I have good immune systems, but I'm not sure of Annemarie and the children. I'll keep them away until Leo is well again."

Back in her home, Grief hadn't moved. She unlaced his boots and put them by the door, and methodically stripped him to nothing. Normally she'd enjoy doing that, but then again, he was usually an active participant when she did so.

She wet a clean cloth from the cold pitcher on the kitchen table, and patted his hot skin down. His shivers grew worse. After she felt he'd been sufficiently cooled, she wrestled the blankets out from under him. She draped the sheet over him, leaving the blanket itself bunched at his feet.

The cloth was wetted again, and this time she used it to wipe the grime from his face. She brushed his long windblown and thickly tangled hair from his face and gave the skin another wipe down.

The next week progressed much the same. She kept his temperature down as much as she could, forcing water and broth into him when he was conscious enough to take it. He couldn't make it on his own, but he could handle himself once he was escorted to the outhouse. Ren wouldn't have hesitated to help him though. Grief had sat by and silently comforted her once, while she birthed a child that clearly wasn't his, and had never once mentioned it to her.

Summer rolled in abruptly, bringing unbearable heat with it. She kept all the windows open, and kept a pair of boxer shorts on him for the sake of their nosy nieces and nephews.

She put him in the bath at the end of the week, warming the water enough to keep him from getting too cold. He moaned low in his throat as she massaged shampoo into his hair, though he barely had the strength to hold his head up. He continued to moan and make low noises of pleasure as she washed him, taking her time to massage his aching muscles as she went.

For a better part of three weeks, he slept. Ren remained in his reach, sleeping lightly on the other side of the bed in case he needed her. He never did seem to need her much after he'd gone to sleep though, usually only waking her to help him to the outhouse or accidentally nudging her while he struggled to roll over.

After the first two weeks, Grief's fever had finally broken. After four, he slept less often. He was still struggling to do most things, but at least he was awake enough to help her while she took care of him.

"This has all felt like a fever dream," he murmured, relishing in the afternoon breeze coming through the bedroom windows. He made slow work of his bowl of stew in his lap, not wanting to upset his stomach after a month of just broth.

Ren settled on the bed next to him, leaning back against the headboard with her own food. "I'm sure most of it was one, honestly. You were burning for nearly two weeks. I thought your brain would be cooked by this point, but you seem coherent enough."

She didn't say it out loud, but she was beyond relieved that he's okay.

They next two months were spent working his appetite back up and rebuilding his strength. It was a slow process, but she was uncharacteristically patient with him. The village down the road were constantly on alert, nervous of the daily walks they took in town. She and he, the warlord and the mercenary, making snide comments about the people who taunted Ren in her early years.

The two let their little pack of 7 nieces and nephews accompany them occasionally, tolerating the calls of "Aunt Reneea, buy me this!" and "Uncle Leo, is that real gold?".

He curled against her one evening, late into the third month of Summer. She thought nothing of it, even with his erection pressed against her. He wrapped his bare body around hers, brushing her thick curls away to kiss the back of her neck.

Ren shivered as he ran a hand up her belly to caress her breasts. "Are you sure you're well enough for this?" she asked lowly, closing her eyes as he rubbed against her and moaned low in his throat.

"I've been trying to seduce you for two weeks, but you've been sleeping. Roll onto your back already."

He straddled her thighs as soon as she was where he wanted her, and he kissed her proper. It didn't take long for her to be ready, whining softly and spreading her legs open for him. He wasted no time pressing into her, going just slow enough to let her adjust around him. It was a short lived round, but she moaned with pleasure, clenched around him while he shuddered through his own release.

As the air began to get cold again with the first dregs of Fall, Grief decided he was well enough to return to his home. He was still a little weakened, but nothing that wouldn't fix with time. Ren watched him gather his things, idly trying to keep herself busy.

He turned to her as he approached the door, raising a brow at her. "Are you coming home?" he asked. She hesitated, though unsurprised that he wanted her back, and realized that she didn't particularly want to be there without him.

"Of course."

**Author's Note:**

> Reneea is pronounced ruh-nay-uh. Basically Renee with an "ah/uh" sound at the end (depending on your accent. I'm very Texan so it sounds more like "uh" than "ah".
> 
> I have [my blog](http://iwillpooponthefloor.tumblr.com) on tumblr, if you'd like to check that out.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
